“Yeah.” He glanced at Georgie. “It was. Thanks.”
Georgie grabbed a key ring off the hook and zipped up her jacket. She looked down at the keys, fingering them as Jace picked up his bag from the sideboard. He’d left the rest of the cake for them to enjoy and was bringing home empty containers. He loved that feeling. As a cook, it was satisfying. It was the whole point.
“Ready?” Georgie asked, pulling her hood on.
He nodded, and they were out the door, dashing for her car. She had an orange Kia. He’d learned to expect its presence in the restaurant employee parking. The lot felt oddly boring without it.
“Do you like your car?” he asked once seated inside.
She nodded. “My brother helped me buy it from a friend of his.”
“The color kind of stands out. The orange in all this gray.”
She frowned. “It’s burnt orange.”
“I meant that I like it.”
She looked sideways at him as if deciding whether or not to believe him.
He laughed.
Her windshield wipers worked like crazy as they drove up the hill. “This one here.”
She pulled up into the drive and shifted into park. She’d been quiet for the short trip. He gave his place a once-over, looking past her, and groaned on the inside.
“It’s nice.” She turned back to him.
“It’s a dump.”
She tried not to laugh at his abrupt summation. She looked in the rearview mirror, then turned a little in her seat to look out the back window. He could smell her perfume again. Or maybe it was her shampoo.
“It has a great view.”
He turned and looked. “I can’t argue with you about that.” The low clouds didn’t quite conceal the bay, and he could still see Whidbey stretching out across the water.
“Faye says sometimes whales come.”
“They do. I have a friend on Whidbey who gives me a shout out if he spots them first. If I hear anything, I’ll pass it along.”
“Thanks. Hey, you can see the house from here.” She turned back to him, closer now that they were both leaning toward the center.
He nodded, hit with a pulling in his stomach, not unpleasant. Her eyes were a deep, clear blue in the evening gray, with islands of burnt caramel just around the centers.
“I, uh, had a good time.” He watched for her reaction, not knowing what he wanted to see.
She looked down and sat back in her seat. Nope, that wasn’t it. “Me too. We all did.” She took a deep breath and lifted her chin. “Not so weird, huh?”
He sat back. “Not so weird. But you got to ask all the questions.”
She narrowed her eyes. “What do you mean?”
He looked out at the awful scraped siding on his house. He could see Kit’s head in the dark of the front window, could picture his tail wagging behind him. “I mean you know a heck of a lot about me, and all I know about you is your name, where you work, who you live with, and that your brother helped you buy a car.”
“And the crème fraîche.”
“Yeah, and that.”
She lowered her eyes and played with the key ring dangling from the ignition. “That’s a lot more than I want most of the population to know about me,” she murmured.
He watched her for a second, curious about what she hid when she withdrew like that. She didn’t offer anything more on the subject, so he changed it. “Do you think the cake would be a good addition to the dessert menu? It would replace the torte.”
Her brow lifted in surprise. “Oh. Yeah. The torte is really good. But that cake . . .”
He smiled. “Great. I’ll let Reuben know.”
“Do you get to change things on the menu anytime?”
He shook his head. “No. He asked me to come up with some changes a few weeks ago. Freshen things up for the new season. It’s an opportunity to show what I can do. I just haven’t had much . . . inspiration.”
She turned and looked out her window.
“So, when is it my turn?” he asked hesitantly. “To ask the questions?”
She lifted her hand and ran it along the steering wheel.
Enough time passed that he knew she was uncomfortable. “Another time, then?”
She met his gaze. “Maybe.”
He nodded. “Thanks for the zoom.”
She rolled her eyes. “Anytime.”
He popped his door open. “I might take you up on that.”
She muffled a laugh.
“Tell your family thanks again.” He hopped out but ducked his head back in the doorway. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
She nodded. “See you tomorrow. Hurry; your back end’s gonna get soaked.”
He grinned, and she shook her head, laughing again.
“Go.”
“Bye.” He pulled himself out into the rain and ran to the front door, not wanting to draw attention to the dismal carport. He unlocked the door, stepped inside, and turned just in time to see her wave, and then her car disappeared down the steep hill before reappearing farther down.
Don’t stand here watching like some creep. When her car reached the main road, he turned and closed the door. Kit greeted him enthusiastically as he set his bag down on the small table and collapsed on the couch. The dog went to the back door and waited to be let out.
“Give me a minute, buddy.” Jace ran his hands through his hair. “What am I doing?” He looked around at the threadbare place and shook his head. He checked the clock on the wall and felt the silence. She’d had to drive him up here because it had rained. And he only had a bike. “You’re a real piece of work, Jace.”
He reminded himself that he was trying to avoid these very pressures with his declared single status.
He imagined her laugh. She’d said he was interesting. Like a seashell full of holes.
He couldn’t help smiling.
Chapter 10
“Jace, I need to talk to you for a few minutes.” Reuben motioned to his office. It was just the two of them, an early Monday as usual. They used this time to plan, go over supplies and ingredients, make orders, that kind of thing. Jace yawned. He’d spent the earlier morning hours scraping siding.
Reuben sat at his organized mess of a desk, and Jace sat in the usual chair across from him and waited. Reuben folded his hands.
“How are you coming on the new menu items?”
Jace leaned forward with interest. “I have a new dessert. It’s a flourless cake with a ganache. Crème fraîche from Golden Glen Creamery. Orange twist.”
“Replacing the torte?”
“Yes.” Most of the menu items were Reuben’s own, so the assignment had an added hazard. He didn’t want to offend the man. The torte, however, was not Reuben’s. “Had a chance to test-drive it yesterday.”
“I gather it passed. Can’t wait to try it.”
Reuben, of course, would have the final taste on all the dishes, but Jace was confident about the cake.
Reuben rapped his knuckles on the desk, his telltale sign the subject was about to change.
“We’ve had some publicity stemming from Anders’s outburst the other day. I can’t decide if it’ll hurt or help us.” He pushed the newspaper next to him forward. “It’s not much, just the police reports. Facts about the disturbance and the arrest.”
Jace looked it over and had to agree he didn’t know if or how it would affect the restaurant. “Well, maybe a few more people will know we’re out here, eh?”
Reuben smiled at Jace’s half attempt at humor. “Right. And people are curious. But the faster we get the restaurant back into a more positive light, the better, no matter how small this is. So. . .” He leaned back in his chair. “I want the new menu written up next week. We start getting word out now, get the ingredients ordered so we’re in full swing April first when the Tulip Festival hits. People talk. Local markets make suggestions. Bloggers . . . blog. Or whatever. I’m hiring a guy to get a website up for us, nice and shiny. My gut still turns about Anders. I wis
h he’d been able to fight it out. We all have demons. But this is a business. And we cover the bruises.”
Jace remained quiet but nodded his head.
“I know what I’m asking. But you can do this, Jace.”
He’d felt the pressure to turn in four dishes in as many weeks, but three in one? Jace hadn’t even considered entrees yet. He decided he didn’t have time to be cautious. “What do you think is weak on the menu?”
Reuben pulled the menu over. “Well, let’s have a look.”
When they finished taking apart the menu, Jace had three entrees and a new appetizer to come up with. Four dishes.
“Great.” Reuben slapped him on the back as they left the office. “Think fresh. Bright. Tulip Festival.”
“You know, tulip bulbs are edible,” Jace offered.
“They are?”
“Yeah. But they taste like mud.”
“Ha. Right. Thanks, Jace.” Reuben checked his watch. “About time for the crew to start showing up. New dishwasher today.”
“Oh, right. Georgie will be happy.” He remembered her damp emergence after her turn at the sink.
“Will she, now? Things seem to be improving in that department.” Reuben kept his expression one of general observance, but Jace had worked with his boss long enough to know when the man was hiding a thought.
“Yup.” No way was he telling his boss he’d had dinner with Georgie’s family.
“How ’bout that?”
Jace folded his arms and shrugged.
Reuben pursed his lips. “Well, keep tolerating each other. I like her.”
Jace nodded. “You bet.”
Reuben passed with a smirk and greeted Caleb, who’d just entered through the back door. Jace narrowed his eyes. Tolerating.
He’d like to think they’d moved beyond that. Hadn’t they?
He turned to the bread ovens and flipped them on, remembering his new assignment. Something new. Something fresh. Something not seen on every menu along the Washington coast.
“You bet,” he repeated with not a little sarcasm.
Almost an hour later, the new kid showed up for work.
“Everyone, this is Tyler, our new dishwasher. Make him feel welcome, crew.” Reuben arched a brow in Jace’s direction, and Jace couldn’t help but roll his eyes. Just because he’d been a jerk about Georgie didn’t mean he’d give all the new employees the same treatment.
To prove this, Jace approached Tyler as Reuben retreated to his office with the website guy. He stuck his hand out. “Tyler, Jace Lowe. I saw you at church.”
“Yes, Jace. Good to see you.” They shook hands.
“We really appreciate our dishwashers, so don’t think you’ve got the low job on the totem pole. Without someone to man the beast over there,” Jace nodded toward the sink and sprayer, “things get mucked up really fast. Just keep things cycling through. You’ll be fine.”
Tyler smiled. “Thanks. I’m sure I can handle it.”
Jace patted him on the shoulder once and reached for his chef’s coat hanging on its hook. He turned to the staff as the kitchen started that familiar hum. “Okay, people. Let’s make them want to come back.”
A couple of whoops came from the crew.
“So when does Georgie come in?”
Jace looked back at Tyler. “Any minute.”
Tyler grinned. “Great.”
“Georgie’s station is up front.” Jace motioned with his head as he buttoned up his white jacket. “You won’t be seeing much of her.”
Where did that come from?
Tyler nodded. “Sure. Great. Thanks.”
“Good luck.” Jace turned just as Georgie came in the back door. “Oh. Hey,” he said.
She gave him a reserved smile. “Hey.”
Jace suddenly couldn’t think of anything more to say.
“Hi, Georgie.” Tyler gave a wave from behind Jace.
Her smile widened. “Oh, hi, Tyler. First day of work.”
“Yup.”
Georgie hung up her jacket and picked up an apron. “I guess we’ll be seeing a lot of each other, huh?”
Tyler’s grin widened. “Yup.”
Georgie pulled her apron on and tied it as she passed Jace, who felt like an idiot but wasn’t going to show it.
“You gonna just stand there and let the customers fix their own food?” she asked.
Jace scowled. “No. I’m not.”
* * *
“Prawns and the special for fifteen,” Georgie called. “And coconut shrimp for table eight.”
Jace turned to her. “Coconut shrimp. Okay, if you didn’t have that in front of you on the menu, what would be satisfying to see in its place?”
Georgie stared. “Uh. I don’t know . . . some sort of other . . . kind of shrimp?” The bread timer went off, and she turned most of her attention to that.
He chuckled. “You’re a lot of help.”
She heard the sizzle as he flipped steaks. “It’s an odd question.” She pulled hot loaves out and replaced them with loaves that had been rising. “Why are you asking about the coconut shrimp?”
“We’re replacing it.”
“What?” Her bread knife slid easily through the loaves. She could get just the right width on each slice now so each loaf had six slices. “Why replace the coconut shrimp? Everybody loves that appetizer.”
“Yeah, and everybody can get them at almost any restaurant around here.” He set the plates of steak down in front of her, and she drizzled them with clarified butter, sprinkled the top with minced parsley, and sent them on their way. He shook his head. “I need to kick it up a notch.”
Georgie frowned in concentration as she put together a couple of wedge salads. “Kick coconut shrimp up a notch,” she murmured. “Hmm.”
Jace turned back to his pots.
The shrimp were crunchy and light, even though they were fried. And everyone loved the garlic aioli sauce they were served with. “Maybe a new dipping sauce?”
Jace turned and lifted his spatula to gesture with it. He did this often, she’d noticed, while talking or making a point while at the grills. “I’ve been considering that.”
“Maybe change up the dip with something local?” She pulled an order off the cable. “Fish and chips, planked salmon, and a kids’ number two,” she called. “And two bowls of clam chowder,” she added, picking up the ladle.
“A dip with something local,” Jace mumbled.
“Yeah, something sweet,” she said. “The aioli’s amazing but not sweet.”
“So . . . sweet and zingy.”
“Yeah, zingy. But then the shrimp can’t be too sweet.”
“Eleven’s up!” they both called, and John appeared.
He leaned forward to both of them. “Thanks for hiding the canna in the cooler, Georgie.”
“No problem. It’s gorgeous. Great color.”
John had chosen a stem with orangey coral blooms and deeper orange throats. Georgie had a feeling Rhea would be grinning before John even got the words out.
Looking nervous, John left with the food. Georgie rapped her knuckles on the counter and reached for the next order.
Jace laughed to himself.
She faced him. “What?”
“The way you knocked on the counter just then. That’s Reuben rubbing off on you.”
She shook her head in disbelief, but he was smiling at her in a way that reminded her she liked to be smiled at.
Then his brow furrowed. “Help me.”
She frowned, her face feeling warm. “Help you? With what?” She glanced around the kitchen and lowered her voice. “Is there someone you want to ask out too?” She pulled out salad plates and picked up the tongs.
“No, that’s not it.”
She busily started filling plates with greens.
“Georgie.”
She paused and ignored the way her heart sped up. “What?”
“I need to come up with four new dishes by the end of the week. Reuben wants a menu overha
ul. Will you help me?”
She looked at him. He was serious. She glanced around again. “Why me?”
He shook his head. “I don’t know. Maybe because of the way you influenced the chocolate cake recipe.”
“All I did was mutter ‘crème fraîche.’ Like a crazy person. Who mutters ‘crème fraîche’?”
He smiled crookedly. “I just have to follow my gut, and I’m asking you.”
She pulled out the dressing cups for each plate, wondering what in the world she was supposed to say.
“Please?”
Slowly, she nodded, not sure what she was getting herself into. “Who’s crazier, the person who mutters ‘crème fraîche’ or the guy who listens to her?”
He breathed out a sigh of relief. Or of exasperation. She couldn’t tell. “Thanks,” he said. “We’ll talk later.”
She nodded again and finished the salads. But she peeked over at him as he tended the lobster broth he was making. He barely measured. Just added the ingredients with relaxed concentration, or confidence, she guessed.
Yet, he was worried about these new dishes. The chocolate cake idea was a fluke. How in the world would she be able to help him come up with brand-new items for the menu?
A voice in her head surprised her by asking her why in the world she would hesitate. Help me, he’d said so quietly. She swallowed hard and went to the bread oven just before the timer went off.
* * *
“Hey, Georgie.”
“Hey, Tyler. What’s up?” She dusted the dessert plates with powdered sugar for the key lime pies.
“I’m on my break and just thought I’d come see what you do up here.”
“Excuse me, Tyler.”
Tyler moved as Jace passed with a tray of halibut steaks.
“Well, as you can see, I pretty much run the place.”
Tyler chuckled. “Yeah, I see that.”
“Excuse me, sorry.”
Tyler moved as Jace passed off the empty tray to Haru.
“Two primes, fried oysters, and a mahimahi,” Georgie called, then she murmured, “Two baked potatoes and a house salad for me.” She pulled out the appropriate plates. “How’s your first day, going?”
“Great. Wet. Listen, I was wondering if you wanted to catch a movie tomorrow. A matinee.”
“Oh—”
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